Ride The Sails
by Zarathustrian
Summary: A continuation of 'Ride The Waves' and a work-in-progress, more than happy for feedback provided it is constructive criticism.


Disclaimer: The character of Yara/Asha Greyjoy (Yara in the actual TV show as to avoid confusion with the character Osha. I'm opting to go with Yara because this piece is based on the most recent episode of GoT which also reminds me, slight spoilers if you've not seen it) belongs entirely to George R.R. Martin, whom I sincerely hope does not ever come across this, due to the fact that we all know how he feels about FanFiction. Still, that's not going to stop me…

Yara Greyjoy stood with both feet planted firmly above deck of the _Black Wind_ with hands spread wide across her hips. The salt air slapped against her cheeks, giving them a rosy tinge as she turned storm-cloud eyes toward the horizon. It had been ten days since they'd left the Iron Islands, only two since they'd gone ashore and she'd enjoyed that mouth-watering albeit brief encounter with Tarshé.

Ahead, nothing but ocean between them and their final destination; Meereen, though Yara knew they'd stop at least twice more for provisions and to let the crew loosen their sails, so to speak. The reality was, Yara had far more to keep her occupied than she'd first realized she would; Tarshé quickly fell to the back of her mind as she dealt with various crew concerns all the while keeping an almost constant vigil over Theon.

Though his demeanour had improved remarkably since they'd left the tavern, there was still a hesitancy about him that remained, keeping his head down more often than not and seeing him practically cower to anyone who happened to shout in his general direction.

"Theon," She called to her brother now as heavy boots carried her over to where he stood, pressed against the fore boom as if it would somehow protect him. "Join me." The bridge held enough room for herself, the First Mate and of course the giant wheel she kept one hand upon even now as Theon approached. "Have you had a chance to look at the literature I gave you?"

"No, not quite." Theon's eyes flicked briefly in her direction then away again as he shuffled a step closer.

"There's not much, just maps and a few dusty tomes." Yara tried to keep the annoyance out of her tone, as difficult as it was with her brother. They were all each other had now, however, and if she were going to make this journey, she'd need him, all of him, beside her.

"I can manage it."

"Of course." Yara agreed easily, placing both hands upon the wheel now as she returned her attention to the horizon, not failing to notice the hint of cloud where before there had been none. It would add a day or two to the journey and she almost considered the idea of turning her fleet around, going back to the tavern and letting the storm pass as the crew drank and fucked their way through it. Snorting and shaking her head, Yara admonished herself.

"We'll sail the night through," Yara declared to Theon, to her crewmembers, "And reach shore by morning, set down for the night as the worst of it passes."

"Aye, Captain." It was rare for Yara to receive more than a few words back from her first mate, Abraxton. The Iron ran as deeply through his blood as it did hers, at times she wondered if not deeper. Few words suited her, though, and he could most certainly talk if given enough ale and a wide enough audience. On the deck, however, he moved with silence and carried out his tasks without question.

Blackcrown offered exactly what Yara had in mind as they lowered the anchor. Though it troubled her to lose the travel time, what lay ahead certainly warranted lenience. Before the order had finished passing her lips, the majority of her crew had already set foot into the nearest brothel. Abraxton left her above deck with a brief nod and hesitated as he looked to Theon.

"Go, brother. Join the men."

"I'll… I'll stay." Theon stammered, holding Abraxton's gaze. The older man shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

"Theon," Yara spoke sharply at first, then reminded herself once more. "It'll do you good to join the men, you don't have to do everything they do. Go for the… ambiance." Yara was pleased with how she'd rounded off her little speech. Even more pleased when she saw Theon's features shift, determination filling his eyes. Without another word to Yara, he departed and left her standing alone.

And alone was precisely what the Ironborn woman wanted as she retired to her cabin briefly wondering what she'd have had to have said had Theon rebutted her. Yara pushed all thoughts of her brother from her mind as she stood in the centre of the room, nothing save for a few lanterns barely lighting the space surrounding her.

Slipping past the tapestry partition, Yara stood before the smudged mirror as she undressed, removing the Kraken armour chest plate from her body and studying it as she quickly changed out of her tunic and into an oversized shirt. The Kraken, fearsome as it was hideous, gave Yara that familiar calm she'd lost touch of and as she eased onto the bed, she exhaled deeply.

When a knock echoed through the cabin, Yara rose to her feet, instantly alert as she reached for the blade beside the bed, creeping forward with the heavy weight secure in one hand.

"Captain, are you in there?" That voice, it rang familiar yet couldn't and Yara lowered her arm along with her defences as she moved past the tapestry once more and flung open the door.

"Tarshé… it's not possible." Eyes as dark as storm clouds swept across the sight before her, the young woman's face unkempt with tufts of hair escaping the pageboy cap a size too big for her. The hand-me-down clothes were a mismatch of colours and sizes, layered for effect and as Yara brought her gaze to meet Tarshé's once more, a smile slowly crossed her lips.

"Did you know, when you set sail, no one thinks to ask where an extra cabin boy came from." Tarshé's drawl tickled Yara as the shorter woman took a step closer, removing the cap from her head.

"Cabin boy." Yara echoed the sentiment as she took stock of the shorn locks Tarshé now presented to her, undoubtedly a hack job performed whilst hiding in the bowels of Yara's ship. "And do you think a cabin boy would be permitted to come knocking on my door?" Yara kept her tone even as she watched Tarshé's eyes snap to lock onto her own.

With a flash of defiance sparking through chocolate pools, Tarshé opened her mouth before thinking better of it and closing her lips once more. Dipping her head, Tarshé tucked her hands behind her back and stood before Yara, only a hint of a smile playing across her lips as she snuck a single glance up at the formidable woman.

"Are you going to punish me, Captain?" Tarshé asked softly as Yara continued to stand stalwart before her. Yara smirked.

"You'd like that." It wasn't a question. Yara took a step forward, Tarshé stood her ground and only let her smile widen as Yara's hand snaked through her short locks, pulling Tarshé toward her, keeping their lips mere inches apart. "If you thought it would be so easy as to present yourself to me," Yara lowered her voice as she lowered her hand to grasp Tarshé breast firmly. "You are very much mistaken."

When Yara released all claims to Tarshé's body, the younger woman stumbled back in surprise. Striding to the other side of the cabin, Yara positioned herself on the opposite side of the wide table between them, the maps unfurled across the tabletop, their position tracked with miniature replicas of the Ironborn's fleet, _Black Wind_ forefront.

For a long moment, the two women stood and merely watched one another. Tarshé smile played seductively across her lips as Yara kept her features blank, her expression revealing nothing of the desire seething through her. Remaining where she stood, Tarshé feigned innocence as she casually began to undress, letting the first layer fall away easily. As her hands fell to the belt looped twice about her slender waist, she glanced up at Yara.

Having crossed her arms over her chest, Yara pursed her lips together as she inhaled deeply, struggling to maintain her composure. Tarshé unbuckled herself, let the strap of leather fall to her feet before removing the woollen pants she wore. Beneath those, leggings clung to her body like a second skin. Beneath the layers of shirts, a single vest one size too small wrapped itself around Tarshé's ample chest.

Taking a step closer, Tarshé kicked the fallen garments out of her way, resting her hands on her hem of the vest. Falling a foot short of Yara's reach, Tarshé removed the vest.

"And now, Captain? Would it be easy to present myself to you like this, now?"

Yara lowered her hands, one resting at her side, the other falling to caress Tarshé's cheek as she held the woman's gaze. Drawing Tarshé to her, their lips met, salt combining with sweet as Tarshé pressed her body to Yara's. Breaking their embrace, Yara smirked.

"Still not going to work." Though she'd drawn on every last ounce of Iron in her blood, neither of them could ignore the tremor in Yara's breath as she spoke. Tarshé gave a soft chuckle, sweeping Yara into her arms. Having caught her entirely by surprise, Tarshé drove their bodies back until Yara's shoulders struck the wooden planks of the wall behind them.

Driving one knee between Yara's thighs, Tarshé clapped one hand over Yara's mouth before the _Black Wind's_ Captain could utter a word.

"If you won't play with me," Tarshé whispered as she brought her lips to Yara's ear, pausing long enough to take a soft bite at the tender flesh of Yara's earlobe, "Then you leave me no option other than to play," And with that, she brought her free hand between Yara's thighs firmly, "With you."


End file.
